


Bella Vita

by Lovedinsecret



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Anniversary, M/M, Modern AU, One Shot, Quarantine, Surprises, hand holding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-30
Updated: 2020-03-30
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:35:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23386075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lovedinsecret/pseuds/Lovedinsecret
Summary: When their anniversary plans are put on hold because of the pandemic, Billy has a surprise up his sleeve.
Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington
Comments: 2
Kudos: 66





	Bella Vita

**Author's Note:**

> bambixxblue on tumblr gave me the prompt: hand holding, spearmint, and "I made your favorite." in order to help me write some fluff since that's been hard for me to do lately. 
> 
> come find me on tumblr and say hi (same username)

Steve taps his fingers impatiently on the side of his laptop. Three hours ago Billy sequestered him up here like a god damned Disney princess. Told him that he wasn’t allowed to come down for any reason. And then when Steve balked and started citing emergency reasons, Billy had actually swatted him on the backside, stuck a finger in his face and told him to quit being a brat, and then slammed the door in his face. He’s fucking lucky that Steve loves him so much. That, and curiosity has got him like woah. This isn’t like Billy, and so, for now at least, Steve’s willing to wait and see what comes of it.

He leans back in his chair, unwraps a stick of Billy’s spearmint gum, and starts to chew, smacking freely and loudly since Billy isn’t here to be annoyed by it. No ‘Jesus fuck Harrington, didn’t your rich ass parents tell you it’s rude to smack?’ Perhaps he is feeling petulant. Perhaps he is a bit of a brat.

He should be doing homework, but he can’t think, can’t write an essay on the philosophical implications of the Holocaust or whatever while he’s wondering what Billy is concocting downstairs. He’s managed to while away his time by watching marble races on YouTube. But he’s absolutely bored of that now and for fucks sake it’s been _three hours._ What the hell could Billy possibly be up to?

He’s pulled shit like this exactly once before, except that time Steve had been barred from his own room for all of fifteen minutes. Long enough for Billy to strip down to nothing, stick a cold six pack on Steve’s desk, light about ten candles, and write in _fucking rose petals_ ‘I want your dick’ on Steve’s bed. It was the most memorable Valentine’s Day that Steve had ever had. If that’s what Billy could do with fifteen minutes, then what is he going to come of three hours? Or, alternatively, he just wants some alone time and he’s doing nothing at all…

He’s about to claw through his skin when his bedroom door abruptly opens with a bang as it swings fast into the stopper. He jerks at the sound, damn near dropping his laptop, and glares at Billy who is now filling the doorframe. Billy, who’s in a completely different outfit from three hours ago. He’d been in gym shorts and a faded Metallica t-shirt with the sleeves cut off. Now he’s in tight blue jeans and his nice navy button down that he usually reserves for date night. He looks fucking fantastic while Steve is still in his sweat pants and Hawkins high basketball shirt, feeling underdressed in his own home during a shelter-in-place pandemic. What the fuck.

“Do you trust me, Pretty Boy?” Billy purrs and it’s then that Steve notices the bandanna balled up in his left hand.

Steve could say no, irritated by being ignored for hours and stuck in his room, but then he wouldn’t get to know the surprise then would he? Plus it wouldn’t be the truth anyway. Billy sits at number one on the list of people Steve trusts. It’s a short list, but longer than Billy’s.

“Of course I do, babe.”

“Good, then come here.” Billy motions for him and Steve comes willingly.

He’s fine with the idea of being blindfolded, at least until he makes it to the landing of the stairs and balks.

“Billy…” He says, anxiety laced in the edges of his tone.

“Relax, I’ve got you.”

And he does. Billy comes out in front of him, taking the stairs backwards as he glides Steve down them step by step while holding both of his hands to keep him steady.

Steve had noticed immediately upon leaving his room that the house smelled amazing. It was clear that Billy had utilized his time cooking, or well mostly anyway. He’s wracking his brain to pinpoint what the smell is, because it’s familiar.

“Billy what did you do?” He asks as Billy leads him around to wherever he wants him to end up and suddenly Billy stops him, heat licking up his body as Billy leans in close.

“I know you were upset that we had to cancel our anniversary plans because of the whole quarantine thing—”

“Not really, I mean safety is more important than a reservation I’ve had in place for a month.” Steve defends.

“Babe, you’re allowed to be upset.” Billy presses a kiss to his cheek. “And I’m allowed to fix it.”

Steve snorts, but he’s still leaning into Billy all the same. “Fix it? Three hours to make the vaccine? That’s impressive.”

“Shut it, you. Come on, just a bit more.” And he ushers Steve forward and to the right. Then he’s pressing down on his shoulders to get him to sit down. The familiar chair is apparent once he’s sitting in it. The formal dining room, not the small breakfast nook where they usually take their meals. “Now keep your eyes closed, I’m taking off the bandanna now.”

Steve blinks in the sight before him, candles litter the long mahogany table, along with two place settings using his mom’s fine china. His hand automatically reaches out and grasps for Billy’s even though he only just let go. There’s a platter of bread, fresh baked by the look of it, and two plates of seafood linguine with vodka sauce. Exactly what they would have ordered at Bella Vita because that’s all they ever get there.

“I made your favorite.” Billy says, sitting down still holding his hand. He’s chewing on the corner of his lip and looking down, bashful. “I, uh, may have skyped Juan. I wanted to make sure it was right.”

“You did all of this for me?” Steve asks.

“It’s our third anniversary, babe. I wanted to make it special. Don’t get too stuffed on the pasta. I made crème brule too. Then of course there’s the after dessert, dessert.” He winks.

Turns out quarantine makes for a memorable anniversary after all.


End file.
